


Phantom Zone

by superRDF



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: AU, F/M, Phantom Zone, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superRDF/pseuds/superRDF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faora finds herself alive and back in the Phantom Zone with no way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Zone

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the Phantom Zone is largely adapted from Smallville's version aside from the tidbits we got from the movie (which wasn't much info). This story is AU for obvious reasons. I really want to fulfill my crackship but if I feel this story is going a different way than I won't interfere. For now just enjoy :)

She struggles to open her eyes for the first time ever. When she had come out of the Phantom Zone she couldn’t seem to close them as she looked upon their destroyed homeworld. This feels completely different. Moments ago she was leaping through the skies, the cries of the humans filling her ears. And that woman, the reporter in the cargo bay…and that ship.

Her eyes snap open as her memory comes back to her in a rush and an unfamiliar pain fills her head. She instinctively tries to raise her hand to it only to feel a sharp shooting pain. Seconds ago she was indestrucable and now she feels like a recruit again. _The ship_ , she reminds herself, ignoring the pain like a true soldier of Krypton. _Not Zod’s but Kal-El’s. The one that was on the farm._ Her mind wants to put the pieces together but the pain is causing her brain to thrum against her skull.

Instead she pieces together another situation. Pain means no powers; which means no yellow sun. If she’s not on Earth than where is she? And how did she get there? The thought of death crosses her mind and it is a pleasant thought for a moment. To die for the cause would be better than sitting lost and confused. But she isn’t cold; well she is but it’s a different kind of cold. Not the frosty grasp of death that is said to take hold in your final minutes.

Determined to get a reading on her surroundings she forces herself up; even more difficult is forcing herself not to cry out as she realizes there’s a gash on her leg. If there’s a positive it looks like the blood has dried up. She reaches up to grab onto something— _the plane’s console_ she remembers—and pulls herself up, cradling her injured arm. A quick glance around confirms that the cockpick is a wreckage. There’s no sign of the human soldier and she mutters a quick phrase in Kryptonian meant for the fallen on the battlefield. He was a worthy opponent, at least in mind. Physically he was obviously no match.

When her eyes gaze out the shattered windshield, she almost says a prayer for herself as well.

The immediate landscape is unfamiliar but the white desert that surrounds her is not. It suddenly explains the lack of powers, and _a lack of hope_. A thought which she quickly banishes. The Phantom Zone. A prison for those the council deemed too dangerous to exist in the galaxy. A hell would be a more apt description but she thinks even that would be an understatement. She can still remember her only moment of fear asthe ice crept up her body, encasing herself and her comrades.

 _But I have no comrades here_ she thinks. And she hopes that they have still accomplished their mission even with the doubt in her. A meaningless death is the worst death she can think of.

She eventually gets the strength to stand on her on and painfully pops her shoulder back into place. It’s not a solution but it’s good enough. She looks back through the hole of her own creation and it looks as if the whole back of the plane was blown off. It could still act as a good shelter, it’s intact enough, but as far as being a ride home it’s not the top candidate. She scoffs at herself, a ride home? This is the Phantom Zone; their getting out was a result of a freak accident. No one leaves this place.

But Faora is a soldier. And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t live out the rest of her life versus pitying her situation.

The pain has slowly started to ebb to the edges of her senses making it much easier to gather her surroundings. Kicking away some debris she makes her way out of the cargo hold and is met with a blinding white light. She assumes it’s some sort of artificial sun but she could be wrong. After all there was a reason they didn’t pick her to be a scientist at birth. The ground feels more like gravel and dirt than sand and outside she can get a better view of the landscape.

For a moment she feels a pang of longing because the mountains and hills that fill her vision remind her of Krypton. It’s a saturated and life-drained version of her home but the similarities are undeniable. The physiology is clearly Kryptonian and she wonders if that was simply another mechanic meant to add to the suffering of its prisoners. _“We’ll make you think of home every second you’re trapped in here.”_ From a soldier’s perspective she has to admit that it’s a brilliant tactic. Breaking a man’s will is more effective than breaking a man’s bone.

A look on the ground reveals nothing but more rubble and perhaps with a welding tool of some sort she could make something useful. As it is, it’s useless to her. It finally strikes her to access what she has on her own person and she’s both disappointed and relieved to find that all she has is her blade. It’s more than enough for anything she should encounter, but it’s also not a source of food.

All at once exhaustion hits her but she remains upright enough to block off the open parts of the hull with wreckage. She isn’t sure what to expect but she’s heard enough stories to know that not everyone stays in their frozen state once they arrive.

As she makes her way back to the cockpit she decides that she will make a tactical plan for tomorrow. Wandering around aimlessly isn’t in her soldier nature. Her leg and arm should be feeling better with rest which means the ability to scout.

Her mind wants to keep working but her eyes have focused on the horizon through the windshield. The Phantom Zone doesn’t have cycles but she imagines it’s almost night time; dusk to be specific. And if she squints hard enough it’s almost like looking at a sunset on Krypton; the red sunlight scattering across the mountain tops.

Yes, just like she was back home.

* * *

Two full days had passed without incident and Faora wasn’t sure if that concerned her or comforted her. Either way it made her restless. Scouting had been moderately successful but mostly frustrating. The Liutenant sent others out on scouting missions, that wasn’t a task someone of her rank did.

 In the end it had proved mostly fruitless, the only things of substance were a few rocks to attempt a fire and the knowledge that she was completely alone as far as her eye could see. No other ships, but she reminded herself that didn’t equate to no other people. And for that she kept her blade on her at all times.

She kept her armor on too for what it was worth but that had more to do with the harsh environment that this barren land provided. It may have the topography of Krypton but that was where the similarities ended. Faora was convinced that even a terraformed Earth couldn’t recreate the true beauty of Krypton. But it had been their best shot.

In 48 hours she had done fairly well in not thinking about their conquest. Specifically about the success or failure of their mission. How many others had been taken out with the blast? She had yet to see any others so it gave her hope that they were still out there but she wasn’t one to live off of hope. Not visibly anyway. They had held out hope whenever they arrived at a different outpost but after a while hope became expectation.

If they wanted something done they had to do it themselves: a soldier’s mentality. Though over the past years the lines between a soldier mentality and survivor one had started to become blurred; where they one in the same? It was a question she faced even more so now. Faora had come to the decision that if she wanted to fight another day, than first she had to survive. Whether or not there was something waiting for her once she did, she couldn’t afford to think about.

A noise outside the cockpit caught the Kryptonians attention, effectively taking her out of her thoughts. Even without her super abilities she was still one of the best trained soldiers in Krypton. From youth to adulthood it was all she knew. Expertly she pulled her knife out and handled it for a moment before making her way out the cargo bay. In a matter of seconds Faora took in her surroundings. It was a setting she got to know intimately in such a sort span of two days. The ever present illumination gave little shadows for anyone or thing to hide.

A flash of black presented itself again, moving quickly across the hilltops. Faora slowly shifted to a defensive position, keeping her back to the cold steel of the wrecked plane. A slight shift of gravel and Faora turned to her right, her blade raised at the attacker. She was met with a lunging figure cloaked in black tattered robes.

Her free hand reached up to brace herself against the attack while driving her knife arm forward. She felt the satisfying piercing of skin and that gave her some comfort that at least this thing wasn’t a phantom attacker. A howl of pain erupted from the creature but Faora was already making her next move, retracting her blade and digging it through the garbs and into the abdomen of the being.

She reached up as it slacked, yanking the hood down to reveal a face. “ _You_.”

The name escaped her but the face was utterly recognizable. It was a face that had been plastered across Krypton in her days as a private. A manhunt for him had been conducted and even on a planet like Krypton he had managed to avoid capture for quite a while. _How long had he been here?_

For a moment it seemed like a look of recognition crossed his features but Faora dismissed it. Maybe it was the flicker of seeing someone from his home planet in his dying moments. Whatever it was it didn’t last as he slumped from her grasp and to the ground dead.

Faora looked over him, taking in his appearance. He had seemed almost feral, and moved from the hilltops to beside her effortlessly. She didn’t intend to stay long enough to learn how. Retrieving her blade she wiped it off on the man’s cloak before heading back inside the plane. 


End file.
